The Heavenly Demon Steps Out (1)
"Has my story spread?"
"Ara, your opponent was a famous streamer."
Rumors about Ara had been circulating before, but Dekay had clearly acted as the catalyst. His streams drew an average of two thousand viewers. How many of them had wanted to share the miracle they'd witnessed? The videos they uploaded were nothing short of wondrous. It was inevitable that they would become a hot topic in the community. Already, top-tier Heavenly Demon users in the Apis forums were dissecting Hwaryeong's footage.
"His name was Dekay, wasn't it?"
Irritation seeped through Ara's voice as she spoke his name. No matter how high the stakes of the mission had been, the man hadn't even won. To summon an Outer God against a newbie and then hit her with that "you're so bad at this" line was utterly disgraceful.
Moreover, Baek Ara was someone so unfamiliar with VR that she had never touched it before. There was a high chance she didn't even know the meme.
"Um, Ara. That last thing Dekay said..."
"You mean when he insulted me?"
Her tone sharpened. If hatred could bleed into a human voice, this was what it would sound like.
Enry had no intention of defending Dekay, but she didn't want Ara developing a poor impression of Apis players. She tried explaining the context behind the line, yet Ara's response was immediate.
"Reasons are unnecessary. Only facts matter."
Though her Korean was still somewhat awkward, unpacking Baek Ara's true meaning revealed something like this: Regardless of the reason, the fact that he had insulted her remained. And since countless people had witnessed that insult, she would have her revenge no matter what. Dekay would soon learn exactly what kind of opponent he had provoked.
Enry couldn't grasp the full depth of those words, but she at least understood that Baek Ara had no intention of forgiving him. In her heart, she offered a silent prayer for Dekay's soul.
Fearing that continuing the topic would only make Ara's tone even colder, Enry quickly changed the subject.
"Anyway, since you defeated the Third Elder, the developers will probably contact you soon."
"The developers?"
"They give a real-world gift to anyone who clears the tutorial. It's the same item as the custom avatar you received as a reward."
It wasn't a simple present. Would the developers offer such a gift without expecting something in return? The tutorial was designed to be nearly impossible for ordinary players. Only those who could seize a razor-thin chance amid endless trials could defeat such a powerful foe. How impressive would it look to watch someone overcome an opponent far stronger than themselves without any adjustments or buffs? The developers were essentially offering a bribe. They wanted permission to release the footage publicly, so more people would flock to Apis after watching it, and current players would push themselves even harder.
Most people didn't refuse. No one disliked their fame growing. Why turn down the chance to have the Apis developers promote your name while giving you a gift?
Of course, refusing was allowed. The gift would still be delivered. It was tradition.
When Enry finished explaining, a thoughtful hum escaped Baek Ara's lips.
"So they're sending me a hairpin?"
The irritation that had clung to her voice moments ago had vanished completely. Only childlike excitement remained in her words.
"I suppose I must grow my hair out."
"You're going to wear the hairpin?"
"Naturally."
The hairpin given as a reward must be truly beautiful. Unlike other tutorial rewards, the Heavenly Demon tutorial's clear bonus wasn't well known. After all, only three people had ever cleared it. And those three never spoke about what they'd received, let alone wore their rewards in public. It was only natural that the details remained obscure.
Even with her currently disheveled appearance, Baek Ara was stunning. A hairpin would undoubtedly suit her. But to wear one properly, she would need to grow her hair out. If that messy mop transformed into long, flowing locks, she would only become more beautiful. It was simply a fact that someone already lovely with short hair would look even better with long hair. The short-hair enthusiasts would riot, but facts were facts.
As Enry imagined Ara with long hair, one crucial detail suddenly occurred to her.
"Ara. You're not planning to grow it out from that current state, are you?"
"I was going to."
"Absolutely not!"
Enry shouted before she could stop herself, but she felt no regret. It was unthinkable. Growing out hair in that chaotic condition would never result in anything attractive. It would become a witch's broom, without question. Ara would still be pretty, but in the manner of a beautiful eccentric.
"What exactly is the problem?"
"If you're going to grow it out, you need to get it properly trimmed first!"
"Is that truly necessary?"
If left to her own devices, this woman would never visit a salon. To possess such a beautiful face yet show zero interest in maintaining it was criminal. As a fellow woman, Enry could not allow it. And speaking of unforgivable things, how was Ara's skin so flawless despite her apparent lack of care? Was that natural perfection? That poreless, luminous complexion?! Another reason she could not be forgiven had just been added to the list.
"Ara, do you have any plans tomorrow?"
"None."
"Then come out with me. I'll take you to an excellent salon."
"Must I?"
"You must. No exceptions."
Objections will not be tolerated. If you refuse, I will simply drag you there the next time we meet at language school.
Perhaps sensing the steel in Enry's resolve, Ara seemed reluctant but eventually agreed.
When was the last time I entrusted my hair to another?
Ah, yes. It was during my stay with the Moyong family.
The head of that house had been a peculiar woman in many ways. She cared nothing for the righteous or evil factions and was obsessed solely with beauty. The phrase "lacking all sense of responsibility as the matriarch of a prestigious clan" suited her perfectly.
When the Magyo collapsed under the righteous sects' assault and my father was slain, I had nowhere left to go. The one who took me in was the matriarch of the Moyong family.
She had only one condition: the right to dress me up however she pleased.
I could never understand her. She would say that someone like me having no interest in beauty was a sin, then play with me like a doll. What possible benefit could external beauty provide? In the Murim, beauty was usually nothing but an obstacle. Long hair interfered with movement and vision. A voluptuous figure hindered one's motions. Beautiful clothes were merely cumbersome. No matter how I considered it, beauty offered martial artists nothing of value.
The Moyong family eventually fell due to the matriarch's incompetence. It was only natural. They had sheltered me, a public enemy of the Murim. The fact that they lasted several months was admirable in itself.
After that, I stopped paying any attention to my appearance. I hacked away at my troublesome hair however I pleased and wore whatever clothes were most comfortable.
So.
I wasn't sure how else to describe it, but my reflection in the mirror felt impossibly awkward.
"Oh my! The customer is already so beautiful that I barely did anything, yet the mirror itself seems to be glowing!"
The hairdresser who had cut my hair smiled brightly and spouted such flattery.
Barely did anything? The stylist Enry had recommended was exceptionally skilled. When I, who knew nothing about hair, said I would trust her judgment, she had pondered briefly before creating a true masterpiece. Her scissor work was practically a form of martial arts.
I studied myself in the mirror. Once the hair that had grown wild was properly trimmed, I looked like a somewhat feminine man. Hmm. The young master of the Nangong family had carried this sort of atmosphere. It was fortunate the center part asserted itself so strongly; otherwise, it might have invited misunderstandings.
"See! Ara! Doesn't it look so much prettier now that it's been styled?"
I could admit that much, yet I still failed to understand what meaning beauty held. And furthermore...
"I don't have the confidence to maintain this style by myself."
This current look was the result of the stylist carefully shaping it after the cut. Her techniques had clearly reached a level of mastery I could not comprehend, and I had no confidence in replicating them.
"Don't worry, miss. It's not that difficult. I'll teach you properly."
Hey, stylist. Why are you so full of energy? Isn't this simply work? Don't customers usually become bothersome? Don't shopkeepers generally wish for their paying customers to leave as quickly as possible? Why are you trying to keep me here?
After enduring dozens of minutes of instruction on hair maintenance, I emerged from the salon in a state of near-total exhaustion. Goodness. Even when I had stayed up for several nights straight learning new martial techniques, I had never felt this drained.
"Now that your hair is done, shall we go look at some clothes?"
"Pardon?"
Clothes? Why? Had we not come here for my hair?
"You weren't seriously planning to wear those shabby clothes with such lovely hair, were you?"
"Of course I was. What about these clothes?"
"We can just put them in a bag. Come on! I'm in such a good mood today that I'll buy you one myself!"
I didn't want that. You don't have to buy anything, so can we not simply return? Instead, use that money to buy something delicious. If it's food, I will accept it gladly. No, never mind. I will buy you food instead. So please, stop dragging me along.
My desperate wishes never reached Enry. She simply smiled with blinding brightness and pulled me forward.
"Ara, try this outfit too!"
"Again?"
"It'll look amazing on you!"
Even though I openly frowned, Enry stubbornly held out the clothes. It felt uncomfortable, like I had become a dress-up doll, but knowing her actions came from pure goodwill, I reluctantly accepted them.
I had always been weak to goodwill. Probably because such feelings had been so rare in my life. In the Murim, those who had shown me genuine kindness could be counted on one hand. Most encounters had been filled with hostility or blind fanaticism.
The children of the Murim would surely be shocked if they saw this. To witness the ruthless Heavenly Demon being helplessly led around by a young girl, unable to do anything about it.
"Ara?"
"I'll go change."
At least the clothes she offered this time were somewhat reasonable. The ones from earlier had been truly bizarre. Skirts that exposed the bare legs entirely, tops torn in various places. How could modern girls reveal their skin so shamelessly without hesitation?
Grumbling to myself, I put on the top and stepped out. Enry's eyes widened as she burst into applause.
"As expected, my eye for these things is perfect!"
Is that so? I am glad it pleases you. Now, can we stop here? I have already tried on ten different outfits. Any more and I will become completely exhausted. I fear I will turn into nothing but a limp piece of seaweed clinging to a rock.
There was no way the passionately enthusiastic Enry could understand my feelings. In an instant she disappeared somewhere and returned with yet another new outfit.
Goodness. Would this hell ever end?